SparrowBeth
by TylerZachary
Summary: Random story I found that played with how I feel what a relationship with Jack and Elizabeth would be like. One Shot.


Old random one shot of Elizabeth Swann and Captain Jack Sparrow

* * *

It was always exhilarating when they got separated; when she was captured. She could never truly know if he'd come back to save her, or if he'd even be able to. She'd feel hatred, fear, betrayal, and an immense amount of disgust during the times he took too long, the times she worried he wouldn't be coming back.… And when he showed up, just as he always had before, it turned her on something fierce.

Being together after such an experience was always better, hotter. A part of her wanted to deny it at first, wanted to walk away after her first near brush with death when they were beginning their adventure together. But the sloppy grin on his face, the reek of rum on his breath, his slurred words of persuasion…

She would stay, for now. There were a few times, though admittedly not as often, he had been in her position anyway; a few times where she herself lagged in rescuing him. The thrill of the chase, the capture, the escape. The lying, the manipulating; it all meant something when they fell back into each other's arms. With him there was danger, distrust, fools' errands and too many enemies to keep track of.

But there was also freedom, purpose, a chance to explore the unknown. There were parties and treasures, stories and friends. She was free to do as she pleased; and so long as Jack got what he wanted, she knew she'd get what she wanted.

And right now? They both wanted each other. The floor beneath them swayed as the Black Pearl sailed away from their latest captors. Captain Jack Sparrow was tearing away at her blouse; urgency in his pulls and pushes. She wanted to assist him, anything to get there faster, but she felt it fair that he do the work, since she'd been the one in a cell all night, falling asleep on the cold hard ground whilst waiting for their plans to unfurl.

At the time, Elizabeth was sure he'd be able to manipulate their way out somehow; that much was a given. But how? she wondered now. She'd seen the princes' daughter eyeing him, up and down. The girl's eyes crawling along every inch of his ruggedly handsome appearance. Perhaps he'd slept his way out?

It wouldn't be the first time, nor the last. She'd never stoop to that level. She knew it was different; that Jack wouldn't sleep with anyone he didn't want to, and it was entirely up to her whether she wanted to adopt that strategy. But the men they met were dogs, scoundrels, worse so even than Sparrow.

Besides, he always came back for her, always came to the rescue. Or impatiently waited for her to come save him. Either way, through the arguments and the worry and always holding back in fear of abandonment, they'd always found each other again. She didn't want to be his soul mate, nor his first mate. She wanted to sail the sea as his equal, and when he found out very quickly that in some ways she was superior, he had allowed it to happen. Well, had allowed… was persuaded… semantics.

Jealousy flashed as Elizabeth remembered how Jack had returned the princess' longing gaze, and she pushed him onto the bed, crawling on top of him with yearning. "Watch the goods Miss Swann," he panted into her ear as she repositioned herself to lay flat against him.

"That's King Swann to you, Captain Jack," she said hotly, biting at his lip and removing his shirt.

"Whatever you say Luv," the pirate smiled back. "Whatever you say."

One could argue that the title of pirate king that the daughter of a respected governor now owned was because of Jack. But, Elizabeth knew, while it was indeed he who tipped the vote in her favor, without her there would still be no king at all. If naming her king wasn't to both of their advantages it wouldn't have been done. She knew when she voted for herself that she was eliminating the chance for anyone else to become king. When Captain Jack sealed her fate by calling her name, it was something she started.

Something she had, though hadn't realized it at the time, wanted. A position of power, to do what she wished with it. And for better or worse, for selfishness or selflessness, the power was hers now. Hers, and the man who was beneath her now, exploring her body with his hands, touching her most intimate places with need and desire, the man with whom she'd built the life she wanted for herself.

It was her words that inspired the crew, her words that echoed in their minds as they had prepared to fight to the death. Hers and a few of Barbossa's to make a point. Jack was not there then, not there guiding her or pulling the strings, no longer there to gain anything from whatever she chose. He had been the one aboard Davy Jones' ship, and she alone had had faith in him to do what he had set out to. She alone knew not to underestimate him, even after all this time.

Trust eluded them for this same reason. They both knew Jack would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, put no one before his own desires. And Elizabeth knew she'd never put anything or anyone before her own goals, her own ambitions. Would never compromise her own integrity unless it served her own purposes to do so. Which is why they worked so well for now; they wanted and desired each other. Their goals were joined together, and accomplishing them together gave more time for more simple pleasures.

Pleasures that found them wrapped up together, tangled in a dirty sheet atop a collapsing mattress. Pleasures that could be heard in the whining gasps and guttural moans. Pleasures that told her hands to go lower as his went higher. That commanded she bite down when he pressed harder. That whispered for her spine to chill as her core burned between her toned and tanned legs.

She had tried to be happy with Will. Had tried to go back to a normal life with her lover. As normal as being betrothed to a man who could only walk the earth every 10 years would be, anyway. But when Captain Jack had sailed into the harbor, snuck his way past countless guards and endless halls to reach her bed chamber, and promised her an adventure… She had felt her heart race, her chest tighten, her lips curl into a smile. She'd agreed without a second thought and off they went. It was weeks until dear William had even crossed her mind, and only for moments at a time when the world was still and calm, until the winds crashed ocean waves against the Pearl's hull once more.

The day they married had been the last time he truly sparked fervor in her. He'd always wanted a simple life, and she always knew this. She'd hoped she'd be content, that she'd be able to squash any feelings of unrest and trade in what she'd attained through the life of piracy. Elizabeth Turner had been a foolish woman indeed, she thought to herself, kissing below Jack's navel.

The day she'd met Jack had been the strangest day in her life up to that point. Norrington offering a shared life was not unexpected, nor was it so farfetched. He was a good man with good standing in the royal navy; but Elizabeth knew she'd wanted to be with Will, and only Will. At the time. When she fell off the wall and into the icy water below, who knew it would open an infinite number of doors? When an infamous pirate saved her from drowning, only she could know how infatuated she'd become, and known she had not.

She'd always been fascinated with pirates. That was part of what lead her to become so captivated by William Turner, the potential child of pirates that sailed away into the fog, left behind and forgotten. When Sparrow saved her, she'd wanted to return the favor when her late father ordered him to be shot, and perhaps she'd also, subconsciously, wanted to know this man more. Learn who it was that lay underneath the dreads and the bandanna, the khol lined eyes and a drunken demeanor.

She knew him now, in ways she'd only shamefully dreamed of since joining his crew to find Will all those years ago. She could tell when he was upset, when bits of news from gossiping sailors reached his ears in shabby taverns piqued his interest, and when his eyes grew dark and followed her feminine frame beneath baggy clothes, she knew he was feeling lustful. She knew which spots made his knees weak, and that teasing him was the best way to ensure his appetite grew ravenous. Likewise, he'd found how to make her lips tremble, how to coax involuntary moans from her with the simplest of touches. Evoking the others arousal had become second nature to them, often turning into challenges of who could do it first.

Jack Sparrow is a pirate, and a good man. As good a man as she a woman, disguised with layers of double talk and misleading sentences. True intentions could be sussed out of the fictitious words he uttered so frequently if one tried hard enough. Though she was more often held captive, she knew the roles he played in their schemes had put him in far more dangerous positions. It was her doing that had her put aside their equal status and pretend to be just another young man sailing under his orders, while he placed himself precariously beside those they were deceiving. Trial and error proved that men's egos were fragile, and when fanned by a fellow man they were more likely to listen. Easier to manipulate.

Masquerading as a man helped to not draw unwanted attention to Elizabeth, a point which Jack stressed time and time again. She knew he was right, that she couldn't trust any men of any standing to behave themselves just because she knew how to wield a sword. Often times she was in a position with nothing but a small knife and her wit, and against a cell full of other prisoners neither was going to do much.

She knew it was not lack of respect or confidence in her skill that had Sparrow playing the lead in a majority of their more unlawful adventures. When doing business with their brothers and sisters safety was more guaranteed, as both had earned a great deal of respect and loyalty amongst the other pirates. It was the plots that involved royal personnel and corrupt bureaucrats that found the pair making backyard deals, double crosses, fights for their lives, and usually weeks of finagling their way out of situations that should probably have been avoided altogether. But where was the fun in that?

Elizabeth felt her hair tug and gasped. Jack's rough breathing against her throat caused her shoulders to roll back and she lifted her head away from the seafaring bandit. She opened heavy eyelids, her lips parting to allow a husky groan to escape. Sordid fingers played with thin fabrics, and she tried to will away the rest of the clothes that covered far too much of her skin.

"Fuck me," she exhaled, dropping her head back down again and catching Jack's warm mouth with her own.

"Don't mind if I do Luv."

"Shut up," she whispered hoarsely in his ear, pulling away again to strip him of his current attire. Soot and sweat smeared across the others skin as they rubbed together, leaving a distinctive map of each other's bodies. The ghost of dirty hands trailed down Elizabeth's backside and around to her waist, dipping in along her hips where shadow met flesh as Jack gripped her. His thumb pressed in and she felt her back arch towards him, bringing their stomachs together once more, without the shield of clothing this time.

It's not the love she'd felt for William, and it'd be disrespectful to both men to pretend it was. William was safe, sweet, wholesome, and his voice able to soothe Elizabeth when nothing else could. His embrace- warm with a promise of forever- sometimes haunting her the times she stood on the deck staring off to sea, awaiting Jack's return. She'd feel his cool breath against the back of her neck, and hairs would stand on end that had nothing to do with the chill of the departing sun. Sometimes She'd almost feel some of her hair being tugged, rather than blown by ocean winds, by hands permanently rugged from smithing swords and hoisting sails.

Elizabeth shuddered as she remembered them, as Jack's far nimbler and a thousand times dirtier hands pulled out from her hair. Her eyes peeked open and the caught a glimpse of the ever-present filth under Jack's fingernails. She watched him scratch she end of his nose and smiled as he twirled the tips of his mustache, before stroking her cheek almost tenderly. His eyes were still closed, so she lowered her gaze to his throat, where a layer of perspiration and grime coated his skin heavily. She dropped her head and bit down, a strong taste of salt and rum filling her mouth.

If Jack had kissed her when she'd first wanted him to, things wouldn't be as they are now. She'd been curious to know how it felt, how he felt, and too confused to not have either slept with him or never spoken to him again. Even after she teased him, almost begging him to lean in, she knew it was the right choice it hadn't happened. Kissing him later to distract him made her realize that. She enjoyed it, more than she should have, and the guilt of why she was doing it, coupled with hiding it from Will, it had been too much already. It'd have probably broken her if it'd been more than a silent promise to find a way to bring him back.

That's not to say that their, whatever it was, was perfect. They'd meet up with Will when missions called for it, and Captain Jack Sparrow would find himself alone for a night, save for a bottle of rum. Or sometimes, when docked in Tortuga or another disreputable port, Pirate King Elizabeth Swann would find herself missing his company, often settling for reading a half ruined book found below deck or looking for their next job.


End file.
